Chicken Pox
by storymom
Summary: PG just to be safe, but seriously doubt that's needed. I'm thinking that the title is self explanatory. It's about Ryan, and well, Chicken Pox. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Ryan was just coming into the kitchen for breakfast as Kirsten was hanging up the phone. Sandy and Seth were already there, and they were all staring at him. "What's going on?"

"Ryan," Kirsten asked. "You have had the chicken pox, haven't you?"

"I don't know." He eyed her curiously. "Why?"

"That was Julie on the phone. Seems Caitlin has the chicken pox, and since you've been over there a lot lately... well, that means you've been exposed to them." Kirsten told him.

"I guess I had them. I mean, don't all kids get them?" Ryan said.

"But you don't know for sure?" Sandy asked. Ryan just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

Sandy walked out of the kitchen, and came back a minute later, reading from some sort of file. "There's nothing listed under childhood diseases," he said as he looked up at Kirsten and then Ryan. 

"What's that?" Ryan asked.

"Your file." Sandy closed it

"What file?" Ryan asked. "You have a file about me? From where?"

"It's the file we were given when we were granted custody. It has the basic information in it. Except for childhood diseases. That section is blank." Sandy turned to return the file to his office. He'd rather not discuss the contents of Ryan's file with him at that moment. He knew it would only upset Ryan to know exactly how much they knew about his life.

As Sandy walked back into the kitchen, Seth asked, "Can't we just call Dawn? She'd know if Ryan had the chicken pox."

When Sandy looked at Kirsten and she looked at Sandy, and neither one of them would look at Ryan, he knew - Dawn was once again nowhere to be found.

"Maybe we could call Trey?" Kirsten said, but Ryan was quick to tell her, "No. Not Trey. Don't call him. He... he wouldn't remember anyway."

"Look, it's just the chicken pox," he continued, "I'm sure I had them. I just don't remember, that's all."

"Either way, I think I should probably call the doctor. Just to be safe." Kirsten picked up the phone and walked out of the kitchen.

"How can you not remember the Chicken Pox?" Seth asked. "Man, I can't forget. They were awful. During summer vacation, when I was six. It was the worst."

Ryan didn't say anything. He didn't doubt for one minute that getting the Chicken Pox was the worst thing that ever happened to Seth, and that's why he would remember them. Ryan was sure he'd had the chicken pox somewhere in between the beatings, the broken bones, busted lips, and black eyes. He just couldn't remember them. They were, after all, not the worst things to happen to him.

"Okay," Kirsten said as she returned to the kitchen, "The doctor said that if Ryan has had them, then there is nothing to worry about. But if he hasn't, then he will probably break out sometime in the next two weeks. All we can do is wait and see."

Ryan only shrugged. Good, all we could do was wait and see. No big deal, he thought.

He should have known that it would be a big deal. To Sandy and Kirsten. Wait and see over the next two weeks meant every time Ryan turned around one of them was asking how he was feeling, putting a hand on his forehead to check for a low grade fever, asking him to lift up his shirt to see if he had any blisters, and basically driving him nuts. He began counting down the days, praying for day 14, so they'd leave him alone.

It was on day 13, while sitting in history class, that he fell asleep. He hadn't been feeling right since lunch but just assumed he was tired from studying late with Marissa the night before.

He didn't hear Mr. Bendis calling his name, not until Marissa kicked him under the desk and made he jumped. "Sorry. What? What was the question?" he asked, embarrassed.

"I said 'Here is your pass to the nurse's office'. You're obviously too tired to sit in my class today, so you can just take yourself over there for the remainder of the period. But feel free, once you're fully awake, to read the next four chapters and summarize them for us." Mr. Bendis told him as he handed Ryan a hall pass.

Ryan didn't say anything. He just collected his books and left. Under normal circumstances, he would have apologized and tried harder to pay attention. But he woke up with a killer headache, so he headed for the nurse's office.

Ryan handed his pass to the nurse and told her that he had a headache. He had hoped that would be enough to be allowed to lie down. Unfortunately it was enough to get a thermometer stuck in his mouth. Once it finally beeped, the nurse removed the thermometer, looked at it and told Ryan he could go lie down.

"Finally," he mumbled as he lay down on the cot. It didn't take long before he was asleep again so he never heard the nurse calling Kirsten.

Ryan jumped when he felt someone pull on his shirt. "What the hell?" He quickly sat up, and saw Kirsten looking at him. "Kirsten? What are you doing here?"

"The nurse called and said you were sick. I was just checking to see if the rash had started yet."

"Rash?" Ryan said. "Kirsten, I have a headache. Not the chicken pox."

"A headache. And a low grade fever, and you're so tired that you fell asleep in class as well as here in the nurse's office." Kirsten gently tried to break the news to him. "Ryan, those are all signs of chicken pox."

"Kirsten, they're signs of a lot of things or signs of nothing." Ryan informed her as he got off the cot.

"What did you eat for lunch today?"

"Lunch?" Ryan was confused as to what his lunch had to do with being tired and having a headache. "I don't know."

"You don't know? Or you didn't eat?" When she saw the look on Ryan's face, she added, "I can ask Seth."

"I wasn't hungry."

"Okay, so you're tired with a headache, a low grade fever, loss of appetite and you sound congested. Chicken Pox, Ryan. All the signs of chicken pox," Kirsten informed him.

"A cold, Kirsten. Probably just a head cold," Ryan argued.

"Either way, Mrs. Cohen," the nurse interrupted, "Ryan can't return to school until he has been fever-free for twenty-four hours. And if it is chicken pox, you'll need a doctor's note clearing him to return."  
  
Kirsten put her arm around Ryan's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Let's go get your books and head for home. I can call the doctor from the car."

"I don't need a doctor. I don't have the chicken pox. I just have a headache, or a cold," Ryan mumbled as he hung his head, put his hands in his pockets and walked out of the nurse's office.

Kirsten followed behind, guessing it would probably be better not to continue the growing chicken pox debate at that particular moment. She quietly followed Ryan down to his locker, but when she noticed him stuffing only one book into his backpack, she said, "You may want to take everything you think you'll need for about the next two weeks."

Ryan tried to glare at her, but when he saw her raise her eyebrows at him, he quickly turned back to his locker, grabbed all his books and jammed them into his backpack, figuring it would just be easier to bring them back in a day or two then it was to argue with Kirsten.

Neither one of them spoke again until they got to the car. Kirsten then picked up her phone and placed a call. Ryan closed his eyes and listened to her talk to some guy named "Pete".

"Hi, Pete. It's Kirsten. I just picked Ryan up. He has all the cold symptoms like you said, but no blisters on his stomach yet. Oh, hang on. Ryan, lean forward."

"Huh? What are you doing?" Ryan asked as Kirsten put her hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him forward. He stared at her in disbelief as Kirsten pulled up the back of his shirt, and either Kirsten didn't notice or didn't care as she continued her conversation with this Pete guy. "No, not there either."

"See, I told you. I have a cold." Ryan mumbled as he pulled his shirt back down.

Kirsten didn't answer him as she pulled a notepad and pen out of her purse and began to scribble on the pad, stopping only so often to ask a question. Ryan closed his eyes, not overly concerned with her conversation, since he knew there was no way he had the chicken pox. He was starting to doze off again when he heard Kirsten say, "Calamine lotion? That's the pink stuff, right?"

"No," Ryan moaned, "No pink stuff. I don't need anything pink."

She looked over at Ryan before Kirsten continued her conversation, "Yes, that's him again. No, he doesn't want pink stuff. Oh, the same stuff as for the bath? It comes in a lotion, too? What color is that? Okay. When should I bring him in? Even when the rash appears? How high a fever? His fever can get that high? No, the nurse said it was 101.5. Tylenol or Motrin only, I know. Okay, thanks. Anything else? No, I think I got it all. I'm sure I'll be talking to you soon. Thanks, Pete. Bye."

"Okay," Kirsten continued as she put her phone and her pad back into her purse. "So, that was your doctor."

Ryan looked at her strangely for a second before he said, "I have a doctor?"

"Yes, Ryan. Of course you have a doctor. Who did you think I was talking to?" Kirsten said, and when Ryan only shrugged, she continued, "His name is Pete. Dr. Peter J. McPete."

"Pete McPete?" Ryan snorted. "I have a doctor named Pete McPete. You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not kidding!" Kirsten shot back. It was obvious she was becoming annoyed with this whiney version of Ryan. "He's a nice guy and a good doctor. I've known him almost my whole life, and Seth really likes him. He gave me a list of stuff to get that will help you feel better, including a prescription for Acyclovir, which is a new drug that will decrease the number of blisters you get. So be nice."

"Yeah. Sorry." Ryan muttered as he closed his eyes again and laid his head against the back of the seat.

"You okay?" Kirsten asked a minute later as she patted Ryan's leg.

"Fine. Just a headache." Ryan still didn't open his eyes, but was glad to feel the car begin to move as Kirsten finally started to drive away from the school.

"I'll drop you off at home first before I go to the pharmacy. Do you think you could wait to take something until I get back?"

"It's okay," he told her. "I think there's some aspirin in my bathroom."

"No, Ryan. Don't take aspirin." Kirsten said. The tone of her voice made Ryan open his eyes and look at her. "Dr. McPete said under no circumstances are you to take any aspirin, only Tylenol or Motrin. Kids with chicken pox can get very sick by taking aspirin."

"But I don't have...." Ryan wasn't able to finish his sentence as Kirsten told him, "Don't say it. Just don't take any aspirin. Understood?"

Ryan nodded in response to her question. As he turned and stared out the window he shook his head realizing that it really wasn't a question, more like a demand.

"Ryan," Kirsten said after a few minutes, "Why can't you believe you're getting the chicken pox?" Ryan continued to stare out the window as he finally told her, "Only kids get the chicken pox."

"You are a kid."

"Little kids," Ryan stressed as he looked at her. Kirsten couldn't hide her smirk as she told, "I remember thinking the same thing. That is until Hailey came home with them, and promptly passed them onto me. I was 15."

"Well, I'm still older." Ryan whined. It was a lame argument, but the only one he could think of at that moment. His head was pounding, his throat was scratchy, and he was really tired so he was in no mood to argue with Kirsten, over chicken pox of all things.

"Well, aren't you a lot of fun when you're sick?" Kirsten said. Ryan could only look at her again. Kirsten noticed that at least he wasn't exactly glaring at her, more like pouting. Then he let out another loud sigh as he closed his eyes again.

"I'll make you a bet." Kirsten finally said as they pulled into the driveway.

"What kind of bet?"

"Well, sweetie," Kirsten tried to gently explain. "Dr. McPete said you'd be, um, under the weather for about a week or two. I'll bet you your allowance for that time that you do have the chicken pox."

"And when you're wrong?" Ryan asked, opening his eyes and unclipping his seatbelt. "When all I have is a cold, or even nothing at all?"

"Whatever you want. Your choice."

Ryan opened the door and then looked at Kirsten, "You know if I were Seth, I'd ask for a car."

"Yeah, well," Kirsten laughed. "That's why I'd never make this bet with Seth. Besides, unfortunately I know I'm right. Try to get some rest. I won't be long, and remember no aspirin!"

Ryan only shook his head again as he closed the car door and went into the house. He quickly went through the house and out the back door to his pool house. Ryan's head was still pounding, and he felt pretty miserable. Not miserable enough to admit that he was getting the chicken pox. That was one fact, no matter how bad he felt, Ryan just couldn't admit to anyone, especially himself. Ryan was asleep again before Kirsten was even out of their neighborhood.


	2. Sleeping Beauty

Kirsten would have been more relieved to see Ryan sound asleep when she came home if he wasn't lying on top of his bed, still completely dressed. She put her bags down, sat gently on the bed and began to untie his boots. Kirsten was surprised when Ryan barely stirred as she pulled off the first boot. He rolled over onto his side after she pulled off the second one. And then Kirsten sat there for a moment, debating with herself. She knew Ryan would be a lot more comfortable if he wasn't still wearing his jeans, but well, she knew she couldn't exactly take them off for him. Could she? No, she finally decided, no she couldn't do that. Not to Ryan. Probably not even to Seth any longer. She did reach over to feel his forehead, and she thought he felt pretty warm.

"Ryan...Ryan." She gently shook his shoulder. She wanted to take his temperature, give him some Tylenol, get him to change his clothes and pull his blankets over him, but first she needed him to wake up.

"Ryan!" she said louder as she shook him a little harder, only to hear Ryan groan and then moan, "What?"

"Sorry to bother you, sweetie." Kirsten pretended not to hear Ryan groan again, louder. "But I think you'd sleep better if you changed your clothes and took some Tylenol. Come on, sit up."

Ryan sat up, blinked a couple of times and then stared at Kirsten as she started taking things out of a bag. "You woke me up to tell me how to sleep better? Kirsten, I was already asleep. You didn't need to wake me up to tell me that."

Kirsten hesitated for a split second, trying hard to remember that Ryan didn't feel well and that the worst, according to the doctor, was yet to come. She also reminded herself that this was the first time she had ever seen Ryan sick. She would have never guessed he would be so grumpy. Kirsten figured for now, she'd have to pick her battles carefully with him, and his flip comment wasn't a battle she was going to pick, not at this time. Instead she said, "Here, stick this under your tongue," as she held the thermometer in front of his face.

Ryan stared at the thermometer and then raised his eyes to look at her before snidely saying, "You're going to drive me nuts, aren't you?"

Kirsten tried not to get annoyed. "No, I am not." Then she thought about it. "Actually, I was just thinking the same thing about you."

"Me? Why me? I'm fine. I just have a headache. All I need is two aspir... two Tylenol and some sleep, and then I'll be mmmph..." Ryan didn't get much further in his little tirade as Kirsten pushed the thermometer into his mouth and walked away to get a pair of sweats and one of his wife beaters.

She dropped both onto the bed before going over to get a bottle of water. She returned to pull the beeping thermometer out of Ryan's mouth and frowned at it. "101.9. It went up. If it goes any higher, I'll have to call the doctor again." She was talking more to herself than to Ryan, but that didn't stop Ryan from asking, "Why?"

"Dr. McPete said to call him if your fever goes over 102, or if you remain feverish for more than four days." Kirsten put the thermometer down and picked up the Tylenol. She shook two pills out and handed them to Ryan. She noticed him grimace as he swallowed them. "Throat sore?"

He shook his head before mumbling, "scratchy," and took another drink of water. Kirsten opened another package and took out two more pills that she handed to Ryan. When he looked at the pills in his hand and then looked at her, she said, "decongestant."

"Because the doctor said so," she added when she saw him open his mouth. Ryan sighed slightly but took the pills, grimacing again as he swallowed.

"Why don't you go change?" Kirsten tried to keep her tone light and yet still maintain a no-nonsense edge to her voice. Ryan looked at the clothes lying across his legs and then looked at Kirsten for a second before getting up and heading for the bathroom. He figured the sooner he let her finish doing the nurse thing, the sooner she'd leave, and the sooner he could go back to sleep.

After Kirsten heard the bathroom door shut, she pulled the blankets back on Ryan's bed and then propped a couple of his pillows up so he could sleep with his head elevated, just like Pete said. She then pulled the shades down on all the windows, and realized it might be better if Ryan moved into one of the spare rooms in the house, just while he was sick. He really didn't have any privacy out in the pool house. She quickly decided that she would discuss it with Sandy first and let Sandy talk to Ryan about it. She then collected the Tylenol and the decongestant and put them both back in the bag, but left the thermometer on the nightstand for later.

Ryan walked out of the bathroom as Kirsten was fluffing his pillows some more, and suddenly felt bad for the way he'd been acting. "Um, thanks. And sorry. About before. You really don't have to. I'm just going to lie down for a while and then I'm sure I'll be fine."

Kirsten nodded. "Look, I understand this is the first time you've been sick since you moved here, so this is sort of new for both of us. But it'll be okay. You'll be okay. Sandy and I are both here to help you. Try to go back to sleep, okay?"

Ryan looked over at the bed and then at Kirsten before looking down at his feet and shuffling over towards the bed. He waited until he was next to the bed, and next to Kirsten before he looked at her again. "It's just... I'm kind of used to being left alone when I'm sick. That way I can just sleep it off without bothering anyone."

He hoped she understood. He didn't mean to be nasty or sound unappreciative, but he just didn't need for her to bother.

Kirsten gave his back a gentle rub. "Well, I'm kind of not used to leaving Seth alone when he's sick. You can sleep all you need, but I can't just leave you out here alone until you feel better, especially not if you have the Chicken Pox."

This time it was Ryan who lifted his shirt. "Yeah, but see – nothing."

"That's good." Kirsten gave him a slight smile. "Try to get some sleep. I promise, no one will bother you for a while. I won't wake you up to tell you how to sleep, and I promise to keep Seth out of here. Either Sandy or I will let you know when dinner's ready. Okay?"

Ryan nodded as he looked down at the bed. He wanted Kirsten to leave so he could lie down, but Kirsten wasn't leaving. Since she didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave, Ryan got into bed, figuring she'd take the hint. As he rolled onto his side and reached over to grab his blankets, he felt Kirsten pull the blankets up over his shoulder and then smooth them out around him.

"Night." She quietly picked up her bags and walked out of the pool house.

Ryan lay in bed for a while wondering what was up with Kirsten. Why she was being so... he wasn't exactly sure of the word. Motherly? That wasn't exactly it. Over the past year she had gotten pretty motherly with him. Worried, maybe? But why would she be worried when all he had was a headache or a cold? Overbearing seemed a little too harsh. Maybe overprotective was a better word. Ryan dozed off still trying to figure it out, and never heard Kirsten come in an hour later to feel his forehead and straighten his covers. Nor did he hear her come in again an hour after that.

Another hour later, Ryan slowly become aware of a great deal of movement going on around him, and wondered what Kirsten was doing in the pool house again. She did promise she would leave him alone until dinner, didn't she? It couldn't be dinnertime already.

"Kirsten? I'm fine. Please?" he groaned, without opening his eyes, or rolling over, or picking his head up off the pillow.

"Nah, Ryan. It's not Mom. It's me," he heard Seth say. Ryan opened one eye. Kirsten also promised she'd keep Seth out, too, so what was he doing there?

"I just came in to see how you were doing. Um, Mom said to check on you while she was gone."

"Gone?" Ryan asked as he rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes again.

"Yeah. She went to work and then to the store. Something about ice pops for your throat." Seth flopped down on Ryan's bed.

"Work?" Ryan was surprised that he actually felt a sort of disappointment that Kirsten went to work. She seemed so concerned when she picked him up, and now she was back at work. His disappointment was short lived as Seth told him, "Yup. Went to go pick up her stuff to work from home. Told Grandpa she'd need at least the week off." 

Ryan sat up in bed and stared at Seth for a minute. With being so tired and the continuous headache and just waking up, it took Ryan that long to fully understand what Seth was saying. Kirsten was going to work from home? For at least a week? "Why?" he finally asked.

"I don't know." Seth shrugged. "I guess she figured if she told Grandpa she needed more like two weeks off until you were better, he'd have a fit. I guess he can handle one week, and then she'll just take the second week if you're still sick."

"She doesn't need to do that, you know," Ryan said. "I don't need a babysitter. I can stay home alone and take care of myself."

"Yeah, well, the Kirsten doesn't work like that," Seth said. "She's going to stay home the whole time you're home, and watch over you constantly. Just don't make her mad, because trust me, you'd rather have her acting like nice, sweet Nurse Betty and not mean old Nurse Ratchet."

Ryan's expression said it all before he added, "That's just sick."

"I'm just saying. She's going to do it anyway, so you might as well sit back and take it. Heck, you might even enjoy it. She brings you stuff. Lots of stuff. Anything you ask for, she'll bring you. So what if it means she's constantly jamming a thermometer in your mouth if you get stuff out of the deal. I remember when I had the chicken pox...."

"I don't have the chicken pox. I have a cold," Ryan interrupted.

"Mom says you're getting the chicken pox."

"Yeah, well, she's wrong. Look, see." Ryan again pulled up his shirt, this time to show Seth there were no spots on his chest. Seth just shrugged and didn't answer. "Besides, even if it was chicken pox, which it's not, what's the big deal? It's only chicken pox. Why is she being so, um..."

"Nuts?" Seth finished, and when Ryan only shrugged and nodded, Seth said, "It kind of started when my grandma got sick. Everyone thought she just had a cold, but the cold never seemed to get any better. Then she got even sicker, and well, you know. So Mom gets a little crazy when one of us gets sick. And now, my friend, it's your turn."

"Seth!" Both Ryan and Seth jumped at the sound of Kirsten's voice. Neither one of them heard her come in. "I told you to peek in on Ryan, not wake him up!'

"Mom, don't say peek. Guys don't peek in on each other," Seth said, as Ryan bent down to pick up his book bag to hide his smirk.

"I told you not to wake him up. Out! Now!" Kirsten said.

Seth gave Ryan a quick wave and scurried out of the pool house. After Seth left, Kirsten turned to Ryan, ready to take his temperature when she noticed he was pulling out his books. "Ryan, what are you doing?"

"Homework. I have a lot of it, courtesy of Mr. Bendis."

"Mr. Bendis? But he sent you to the nurse during his class. How could you have a lot of homework from him if you weren't even in the class?"

"He assigned it to me before he sent me to the nurse. For falling asleep in his class."

"He punished you for being sick?"

"That's one way to put it."

"Ryan, close the book and put it away. Then give me your backpack. You're not doing homework right now. And you're certainly not doing extra homework for being sick, that I can promise you." By the tone of Kirsten's voice, it was obvious that she was annoyed. Very annoyed. And Ryan was concerned about what that tone meant exactly.

"No, Kirsten, really it's okay. I did fall asleep in his class."  
  
"Ryan. Close the book now and give it to me. You are not doing homework right now. I will deal with Mr. Bendis."  
  
I, uh... Here." Ryan handed over his books, deciding that arguing with her at that moment would probably not be a very bright idea.

Mean, old Nurse Ratchet, Seth's voice was echoing in Ryan's head as he watched Kirsten stuff his books back into his backpack and zip it up. She didn't say a word as she tossed his book bag towards the door and picked up the thermometer again. Ryan just opened his mouth as she put the thermometer in front of him. It was a very quiet minute or two until the thermometer beeped and she pulled it out. Kirsten sighed and then frowned as she looked at it, then looked at Ryan and felt his forehead, but still didn't say anything.

"What?" he finally asked.

"It's still over 100. I had hoped the Tylenol would bring it down." Kirsten looked at her watch before adding, "Well, it'll be four hours soon. Maybe the Tylenol is wearing off early. I'll be back in about forty-five minutes. Try to get some rest. No homework, no Seth, just rest. And drink your water, you don't want to get dehydrated."

"Kirsten, you can just leave the Tylenol, if you want. I can...." Ryan started, until he saw the look on her face. "Rest. Got it. And drink water. Got that, too."

Ryan slumped down in the bed as Kirsten once again fixed his blankets around him, and then ran her hand over his head. He rolled back over onto his side as she walked out of the pool house, taking his backpack with her as she left.

It didn't take long before Ryan started to feel really miserable again. When Seth first woke him up, he felt blah, but as the minutes ticked away on his clock, he could almost feel his fever going up again. He wished Kirsten had left the bottle of Tylenol. He was perfectly capable of taking two Tylenol on his own. He didn't need her to hand it to him. Hell, he knew first she'd stick the damn thermometer in his mouth again. Ryan finally fell into a restless, feverish sleep, annoyed again at Kirsten's overwhelming mothering...nursing... whatever.

By the time Sandy walked into the pool house less then an hour later, Ryan had kicked off his covers and was tossing and turning. Sandy sat on the side of the bed and reached over to feel Ryan's forehead. He wasn't happy at how hot Ryan felt.

"Kirsten," Ryan moaned. "Tylenol. Now. Please."

"It's not Kirsten, kid." Sandy picked up the thermometer. "Here, put this under your tongue."

"God, not you, too," Ryan again moaned. "Just Tylenol. Okay? Tylenol. Leave me the Tylenol."

"I have it. Don't worry about that. But first I need to see how high your fever is." Sandy placed the thermometer in Ryan's mouth.

Ryan didn't say anything, just waited once again for the now familiar beeping sound. At least with Sandy here, Ryan figured he could talk to him about leaving the bottle. Finally Ryan heard the beep and felt Sandy pull the thermometer out. He sat up slightly and opened his eyes, only to see Sandy frowning at him.

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked as Sandy, just like Kirsten, put his hand on Ryan's forehead.

"It's over 102 now. We're going to have to call the doctor back. Here, take these and drink some more water." Sandy handed Ryan the much-wanted Tylenol, as well as his bottle of water. Sandy noticed Ryan wince as he swallowed both the Tylenol and the water, and knew Kirsten was right that they needed to call Pete again and that they needed to move Ryan to a guest room.

"You should feel better soon." Sandy said.

Ryan closed his eyes again. "Uh huh."

"Do you need anything else? More water? Some juice?" Ryan was only half listening to Sandy as he once again sank down into the bed and waited for the Tylenol to kick in.

"Sleep," Ryan whispered. "Need sleep. And the bottle. Leave me the bottle."

"Bottle?" Sandy asked. "Bottle of water? It's right here."

"No, Tylenol. Leave me the bottle of Tylenol." Ryan was hoping Sandy would just put the bottle down and leave. Just leave him alone, with his bottles of water and Tylenol. That, however, wasn't what Sandy was going to do.

"Look, Ryan," Sandy started, "Kirsten wants me to talk to you... Kirsten and I were talking, and we feel it would be better if you moved into the house for now. Just while you're sick. Ryan? Are you listening, kid?"

"Hmm. Yeah. Kirsten wants me to move." Ryan said, already half asleep.

"No, not move. Well, yeah, move. Into the house," Sandy said. "Ryan? Ryan? Are you still with me? Guess not. Okay, well, I guess we'll have to talk about it later."

Sandy left a sleeping Ryan and headed back into the house. A fever of 102.5, Sandy knew that wasn't good. Kirsten needed to call Pete again, and Sandy needed to get the guest room ready.

They were still discussing how to get Ryan into the guest room over dinner, especially after Ryan refused to get out of bed for dinner. He only grunted "not hungry" from underneath his covers. The Tylenol did, thankfully, bring his fever back down to just over 100. Dr. McPete suggested they try Motrin next and then alternate every four hours between the Tylenol and the Motrin, and call him if that didn't do anything.

They were discussing that over dinner, too, and were shocked when the back door opened and a disheveled Ryan came shuffling into the kitchen.

"Hey, sweetie." Kirsten got up and put an arm around Ryan's shoulder. "Here to join us for dinner?"

"No, ice pop." Ryan shuffled towards the refrigerator.

"We got you some soup. Want some soup?" Kirsten asked, but all Ryan said was, "ice pop."

"How about some toast or some crackers with some soup?" Sandy opened the container of chicken noodle, but Ryan just stared at him and then turned back towards the refrigerator.

"Um, Dad," Seth finally piped in. "I think Ryan just wants an ice pop. Hey, Ry, get blue raspberry. They're the best." 

"Do you want blue raspberry?" Kirsten gently moved Ryan to the side and opened the freezer for him.

"Don't care." Ryan mumbled as he accepted the blue popsicle from Kirsten. As long as it was an ice pop and not lemon, he didn't really care.

"How about something to drink, too?" Kirsten closed the freezer and opened the refrigerator.

"Soda," Ryan mumbled, but Kirsten told him, "No, not soda. How about some juice?"

"Orange," Ryan again mumbled, but Kirsten again said, "No, not orange. The doctor said nothing citric."

Ryan sighed, then looked at Kirsten and finally whined, "Then what?"

"Cranberry? Cran-apple?" Kirsten asked, but Ryan mumbled, "Cran-grape."

"Here you go. One bottle of Cran-grape. Why don't we get you back to bed?" Kirsten put her arm back around Ryan's shoulder and gently started to guide him towards the living room, to the upstairs.

"I sleep that way," Ryan said as he pointed towards the pool house.

"I know," Kirsten gently said as she continued to lead Ryan through the living room. "But for right now, we think it would be better if you slept upstairs. Okay?"

Ryan nodded. "Fine. Whatever." And then he scratched his stomach.

Kirsten didn't say or do anything at first. Not even when Ryan scratched at his stomach again on the stairs. She waited until she got him comfortable in the guest bed, waited until he finished his ice pop, drank some of his juice, and scratched at his stomach again.

She left Ryan briefly so she could go get the Benedryl and the thermometer. He didn't question her as he took the two pills and opened his mouth. He was too tired to care what she was making him take this time, and he was getting a little too used to having her stick that stupid thing in his mouth every chance she got.

Without saying anything, she gently lifted up his shirt. There still weren't any blisters or red spots or anything, but that didn't stop Ryan from scratching at his stomach again. Kirsten knew that although there weren't any marks yet, the morning would be a totally different story.


	3. Chicken Little

Ryan groaned softly as he slowly woke up and realized it was morning. He opened his eyes and looked around, half expecting to see Kirsten or Sandy or both in his room. Throughout the night whenever he woke up, it seemed like one of them was there, and if they weren't there when he first woke up, they were there a short time later. It was either Kirsten's "here sweetie, take this," or Sandy's "hey, kid, this will make you feel better." And of course, the thermometer. Always the damn thermometer. But still, it was comforting. Weird. Definitely weird, Ryan thought, but nice to know that they cared. Okay, so they cared enough to drive him nuts, but at least they cared.

As Ryan continued to lie in bed and think, he became aware of the fact he was scratching at his stomach. And then he noticed that there was also an annoying itch across his chest. And as he sat up in bed, he realized his back was kind of irritating him, too.

"Oh, no." Ryan ran to the bathroom, ripping his shirt off in the process. He stared at himself in the mirror in complete and utter shock. It was not the reflection he wanted to see. "Oh, no. No. No. No. No! This is not good. Oh, man, this is not good at all."

Ryan started to count the red bumps that were now dotting his chest as well as the ones lining his stomach. He stopped when he got to 32, and then turned around to look at his back in the mirror. And then he started to swear.

He was in the process of examining his legs and other parts of his body when he heard a knock on the bathroom door. "Ryan, sweetie. Are you okay? I have your breakfast."

"Okay. Just leave it. I'll eat it later." He was in no mood at that particular moment to see Kirsten or listen to her 'I told you so.'

"Ryan? Are you okay?" Kirsten asked again, hoping for a straight answer.

Although Ryan was shaking his head no, he told Kirsten, "I'm fine. Just... I'm fine."

Kirsten tried to jiggle the door handle, but found that the door was locked. "Ryan, I'd like you to open the door, please."

"No!" Ryan didn't mean to shout, so he lowered his voice. "I'm, uh... I'm just... I'll be out in a little bit."

He really wanted Kirsten to just go away, and didn't understand why she was so adamant about getting in the bathroom with him. She'd never been that pushy before so why now? When she jiggled the door handle again, Ryan knew she had no intentions of leaving and was about to open the door and just get it over with when he heard Seth. "Um, Mom? What are you doing?" 

"Trying to get Ryan out of the bathroom."

Ryan just knew he heard Seth snicker first. "Geez, Mom, give the guy some privacy. Don't ya think you're carrying this whole taking care of Ryan thing a little too far?" 

He didn't hear Kirsten's answer. Ryan figured she answered with a glare because he did hear Seth say, "Sorry."

Ryan groaned when he heard Kirsten say, "Go get your dad." His stomach itched. His chest itched. His back itched. He still had a headache. His throat was still real scratchy, and now he had an audience outside his bathroom door awaiting his grand entrance. He pulled his shirt back over his head, and groaned again when he heard Sandy. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Ryan won't come out of the bathroom." God, Kirsten, why don't you just announce it to the whole world? Ryan thought as he continued to listen to the conversation on the other side of the door.

"Are you sure he's okay?"

"He says he's fine, but he won't open the door. I'm guessing he knows."

There was a louder, more forceful knock on the door, and Ryan knew it was Sandy. "Ryan? Come on, kid. Open the door. It's okay."

No one expected the door to slam open as hard or as fast as it did as Ryan came storming into the bedroom. "Okay? OKAY!? Sandy, this is not okay. This is anything but okay."

Kirsten took a step closer to him. "Ryan..."

"Just say it, Kirsten. Okay? Just say it. Just keep the money. Just... Just get it over with!"

Seth looked from Ryan to his mom and then over to his dad and then back to Ryan again. "Ryan, man, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this!" Ryan jerked his shirt up to show them all. Kirsten was right, and he was wrong. He did have the chicken pox. He let them all take a good look before he sat on the bed and put his head in his hands.

Seth let out a low whistle. "Dude, that sucks."

Ryan didn't even look up at him as he sarcastically said, "Ya think?!"

Kirsten sat down on the bed next to Ryan and put her arm around his shoulder. "Ryan." When he didn't answer or pick his head up off his hands, she said "Ryan," a little louder.

Ryan lowered his hands but continued to look down at the floor. "What?"

"Do you really think I wanted to be right? I didn't. Believe me, right now I would love to be listening to you rattle off a list of things you wanted me to buy for losing the bet. But as told you; I knew I was right."

When Ryan just looked at her with that look she had come to recognize, she added, "Because I'm a mom. It's my job to be right."

"So what happens now?" Ryan was so solemn that Kirsten and Sandy both chuckled.

"Ryan," Sandy said. "It's the chicken pox. Not a death sentence." Both Kirsten and Ryan just looked at him, before Kirsten continued. "You're going to be sore and itchy and pretty miserable for a few days, and then you'll start to feel better. The Acyclovir should reduce the severity of the outbreak."

"When do I start that?"

"You started it last night when I saw the first spots."

Ryan looked at Kirsten. At least that explained her overwhelming desire to get him out of the bathroom. "You knew about this last night? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were half asleep. It was during the night. Besides, there was nothing you could have done about it, and I didn't want it to disrupt your sleep. I only saw the ones on your stomach and chest. Are they... have you broken out anywhere else?"

"Just my back. I guess that's not so bad? That stuff must work then, right?"

Kirsten looked at Sandy and Sandy looked at Kirsten and then they both looked at Ryan, while Seth just stared at them all. It was Sandy who broke the news to him. "Um, Ryan. That's just the start. Over the course of the next two to four days, you will continue to break out with more blisters. They should start appearing on your arms, your legs, maybe your face and um, other places.

Other places? Well, that didn't sound good. Ryan let out a sigh as he looked up at his family. They all looked so sympathetic that Ryan realized just how pitiful this whole situation was.

"Ok." Kirsten gave his leg a light slap and stood up. "I think it would be best if Sandy, you left for work, and Seth, you left for school. And Ryan..."

Ryan's head shot up and he looked at Seth in a panic. Seth! School! "Seth, do not tell anyone about this. If anyone asks just... Just tell them I have the flu."

"What about Marissa? Can I tell her? I mean, you did get it from her sister."

"No. Not Marissa. Or Summer. I don't want anyone to know about this. Promise?"

"Ryan..."

"Seth! Promise me you won't tell anyone about this."

"Promise. Promise. Don't worry about it, Chicken Little, I got your back."

"I can still hurt you."

"Okay, boys..." Sandy started before Kirsten said, "Seth. Out. School. Now. Ryan. Bed. Breakfast. Now."

"Incomplete sentences. Never a good thing." Seth mumbled as he turned to leave. "Good luck, Chick... Ryan. I'll talk to you later. I'll grab your work for you, too."

Sandy kissed Kirsten on the cheek and then ruffled Ryan's hair. "Be back after court. Call me if you need anything." 

When it was just Ryan and Kirsten, she picked up the thermometer and looked at him. "Enough with that already. Please, Kirsten? You win, okay. I have the chicken pox. I admit it. Just no more with the thermometer. Okay?"

"I'm supposed to make sure your fever does not go over 102."

"It's not. I promise. I feel better. Well, okay, maybe not better, but I don't feel as hot. And by that I mean not as feverish."

Kirsten put the thermometer down and then put her hand to his forehead. "Okay, for now. But if you start getting warmer, I'm going to check. Try to eat some breakfast so you can take some Motrin and some Benedril. I'll go start your bath."

"My bath?" Ryan almost spit the toast out that was in his mouth. "I don't... You can't... Um, why?"

Kirsten grabbed the hand Ryan was using to scratch his stomach. "To keep you from doing that. You can't scratch. It's an Aveeno bath. It'll help with the itch."

"Kirsten..."

"Ryan, eat. You didn't eat dinner last night. You can't keep taking pills on an empty stomach; you need something in your stomach." Kirsten didn't give Ryan a chance to answer. She walked into the bathroom and began his bath. She opened the container of Aveeno and poured some in. As Ryan sat there and listened to everything, he realized he didn't have much of an answer for her, anyway. He just sat there with his mouth open, wondering how much worse this was all going to get.

He ate a little more of his breakfast and scratched at his chest and stomach. He then picked his fork up and shoved it down the back of his shirt. He was still scratching his back with the fork in his one hand and scratching all over his chest and stomach with his other hand when Kirsten came in.

"Ryan. I said you can't scratch. You can get an infection."

"But they itch!" Ryan knew he was whining, but damn, did they itch. How could he be expected not to scratch? That would be impossible.

Kirsten handed Ryan the Motrin and the Benedril pills. "These should help, and so will soaking in the tub. Soak for about an hour. I'll let you know when your time is up. I'll leave your clean sweats and underpants on your bed."

Ryan cringed at the word 'underpants.' Seth was right, he thought as he shuffled towards the bathroom, that really was a word Kirsten just shouldn't say.

At least behind closed doors he could scratch all he wanted and Kirsten wouldn't know. He stripped off his sweats, then his boxers and looked around for something that could reach the itch on his back.

"I said no scratching!" Kirsten called through the closed door.  
  
Damn, Ryan thought as he climbed in the tub. How did she know?

Ryan closed his eyes and tried to relax. After a few minutes, he actually realized Kirsten was right. Between the stuff in the tub and the pills that she gave him, he wasn't as itchy. He still itched, but not as bad. Ryan slumped down in the tub, all the way up to his neck and relaxed.

Ryan jumped at the knock on the door. He thought it was only a short time later, but he heard Kirsten call, "Okay, Ryan. Time's up. You've been in there an hour."

"Oh, okay. Be right there." Ryan climbed out of the tub and dried himself off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door. He jumped when he saw that Kirsten was still in the room. She was just finishing changing the sheets on his bed. "Um, Kirsten? I kind of need my clothes."

"Here. I'll, uh, go wait outside. Just let me know when you're ready."

Ryan was going to ask Kirsten ready for what, but decided against it. He quickly pulled on his boxers and sweats but realized Kirsten didn't bring him a new tee shirt. He opened the door to go down to the pool house to get one, and found that Kirsten really was just outside, waiting. "No shirt" was all he said as he tried to walk past her and into the hall.

"Actually it's better if you don't wear one. Less irritating." Kirsten said as she gently pushed him back into the room. "I have some lotion to help with the itch. I promise, it's not pink."

"Ok. Thanks." Ryan reached to take the lotion from her hand, but Kirsten pulled her hand away.

"Why don't you get back in bed? I'll do your back first and then your front."

Ryan climbed back into bed, and looked at Kirsten. "I can do it myself." 

"No, you can't. You can't reach your back. Come on, lean forward." For the second time in two days, Kirsten put her hand on his shoulder and pushed Ryan forward.

Ryan closed his eyes and hung his head as he felt Kirsten's hand rubbing some kind of lotion stuff on his back. It did feel good, but he just couldn't admit that. "Kirsten, this is embarrassing."

"Hmm? You think?" Kirsten absentmindedly asked.

As she finished putting the lotion on his back, she again put her hand on his shoulder but this time pushed him to lay flat. She began to rub the lotion on his chest and stomach. "You shouldn't be embarrassed. It's just Aveeno cream to make you feel better. And it's only on your chest and your back. Nothing I haven't seen before. Nothing private!"

"Okay, now that's embarrassing." Ryan could feel his face turning several shades of red.

"Sorry, couldn't resist." Kirsten patted his chest. "There. Finished. Feels better, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. It feels just ducky." Ryan couldn't help but make a face as he looked at Kirsten. But when she looked back at him with a smile, he couldn't resist and smiled back at her. His smile faded as he shook his head.

"What's wrong?" Kirsten said.

Ryan looked away but then he looked at her. "It's nothing. It's just... Really, you don't have to do all this. I mean, it's nice, and thank you. But..."

"You feel bad." Kirsten finished. Ryan could only nod. "Ryan, there is no need to feel bad about needing help. I told you yesterday, Sandy and I are here to help you. I'm glad to do it. Well, okay, not glad to do it, because that would mean I was glad you were sick. I'm not glad you're sick, but I am glad that you'll let us help you."

"Let you help me? Kirsten, you really didn't give me much of a choice." Kirsten was relieved to hear Ryan's tone lighten again as he attempted to joke with her.

"Well, you're right about that one. I am going to leave you alone for a while so you can get some rest. No scratching, and call me if you need anything."

As Kirsten stood up, she smoothed Ryan's covers around him, and then she kissed the top of his head.

"Thank you," Ryan whispered, just loud enough for Kirsten to hear him. She smiled again as she touched his cheek and turned towards the door.

"Okay, Chicken Little, try to get some sleep." Kirsten opened the door and turned out the light.

"You're not funny," Ryan called out after her.

"Sure I am." Kirsten laughed as she shut the door.

After Kirsten left, it didn't take long for Ryan to start to doze off, wondering how she could claim that a "mom" is always right, especially since she wasn't really his mom. Hell, his mom didn't even know if he'd ever had chicken pox before, or any other illness for that matter. Ryan also wondered what would have happened if he got the chicken pox back in Chino. What would his mom do? Would she take care of him like this? Would she know what pills to give him? Which stuff to put in the tub? Would she be at his bedside every time he woke up at night? Have ice pops for his sore throat? Nah, Ryan realized. Who was he kidding? There was no way she'd be doing those things for him. Never did.

"Sorry, Kirsten," Ryan mumbled. "Not all moms are always right. Just you." And with that, Ryan fell asleep.


	4. Soothing Sandy

Ryan was getting really annoyed at whatever invisible force kept moving his hand away from his stomach and chest. He knew the next time it happened, he was going to swing, slap away whatever was keeping him from scratching. Without opening his eyes, he slowly crept his hand up and laid it on his chest. When nothing happened, and nothing moved his hand away, he quickly began to scratch. But damned if something didn't stop him again. This time, however, it came as a shock to Ryan that the force also had a voice.

"You can't scratch."

Ryan opened his eyes to see Sandy holding him by the wrist. He pulled his wrist free and yawned.

"Why not? I itch. A lot."

"Yeah. I know, but you have to try not scratching. You could end up with an infection. Didn't Kirsten tell you that already?"

"She mentioned it, but I still itch. Still a lot. It's impossible not to scratch."

Ryan couldn't stop himself as he again began to scratch at his stomach, only to have Sandy grab his wrist again.

"You have to try. Trust me, you have to really try. You won't like the alternative."

"What alternative?" Ryan noticed the slight smirk on Sandy's face, and he didn't like the look of it.

"You'll see. If you don't stop scratching, you'll see."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Ryan knew he was whining. He knew it, and he hated it, but he doubted he could stop. It had been a really long time since he felt so miserable.

Sandy pulled out a sheet of paper. "Well, Kirsten left a whole list of instructions. Number one is to check your temperature."

Ryan started to shake his head even before Sandy picked up the thermometer. "No, she just feels my forehead."

"It doesn't say that on the list, so here, put this under your tongue."

"Sandy…"

"It doesn't say that. It does say threaten him with the thermometer, and I don't even want to know what that means. So just cooperate."

"Fine," Ryan mumbled, with the thermometer already in his mouth.

Sandy made a note on his list after removing the thermometer from Ryan's mouth. "Okay. Number 2 – lunch. Rosa is bringing that up a little later. Number 3 – baking soda bath."

"A what? Why baking soda? Kirsten used something brownish last time."

Sandy scanned the list again. "I don't know why. It doesn't say. The list says baking soda, and that the baking soda is in the bathroom already."

"Where is Kirsten?" Ryan didn't mean for it to sound whiney again, but the stuff on the list wasn't what Kirsten did last time, and last time she made him feel better. Sandy obviously didn't know what he was doing, and since it was different, Ryan doubted he'd feel better.

"She had some errands to run since I got home early."

"Why are you here anyway?"

"Because I live here."

"Very funny. I mean, you didn't have to."

"I don't have to what? Enjoy a quiet peaceful afternoon at home? Thanks, but I think I deserve the occasional afternoon off."

Ryan could only sigh and shake his head. Obviously, Sandy wanted to play stupid, so Ryan decided not to bother trying to thank him. Okay so not exactly thank him since him being home gave Kirsten the chance to leave, but well, Ryan wasn't sure what he meant, so he just said nothing.

Since Ryan didn't say anything, Sandy continued. "Okay. So we're on number 3 – baking soda bath. Need me to do that?"

"No, I got it."

"Okay, good. It says a tepid bath. Do you know what that means?"

When Ryan glared at him, Sandy chuckled. "Okay. Me neither. Just try to make it the same as before, but with the baking soda and soak for an hour."

"I know."

"Okay, then. You do that. Number 4 – change the sheets on the bed and get him a change of clothes. That would be my job."

Ryan stopped just outside the bathroom. "Sandy, you don't have to change the sheets again. Kirsten did that this morning. Rosa's going to get mad if you keep taking the sheets off the bed, and I keep changing my clothes."

"It says so on the list, and I think I'd rather have Rosa mad than Kirsten. Besides, Kirsten already did the laundry from this morning, and you know Rosa has a soft spot for you. I think we're safe."

Ryan rolled his eyes and shook his head. The extra attention Sandy was giving him was almost as irritating as the itchy blotches, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He knew Sandy was trying to make him feel better, but it only made him feel worse.

"Look, Kirsten got this all from the doctor, and I promised her that I would follow the directions to the letter. So for right now, your job is soaking in the tub for an hour. Mine is to change the sheets on the bed, get you a change of clothes and check on your lunch. And then we can move onto Number 5."

Ryan didn't answer as he shut the door to the bathroom and started the bath.

"How much baking soda?" he called through the door. Sandy's muffled response that "the list didn't say," didn't help him.

Ryan poured half the box into the tub, and then took advantage of the closed door between them and began to scratch his stomach and then his chest. And then his back, squirming around, trying to reach everywhere he itched. As he stripped off his sweats, he began to scratch his left thigh, and then muttering an "oh crap," he started to scratch his left arm, and then the back of his neck. He then poured the rest of the baking soda into the tub.

An hour later, Ryan climbed out of the tub. He was still itchy despite the bath so he took his time drying off. The longer he was in the bathroom alone, the more he could scratch.

The knocking on the door made him jump. "No more scratching, Ryan. Let's go – lunch is ready."

Ryan wondered how, just like Kirsten, Sandy knew what he was doing. It was like they came with some sort of x-ray vision or something.

"Yeah, yeah," Ryan mumbled as he wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom.

"Okay – lunch, pills and cream," Sandy told him as he handed Ryan his clothes. "You know, you have spots on your legs now."

"Thanks. I know."

Sandy chose to ignore the obvious sarcastic tone in Ryan's answer. "You may want to forego the sweats. Probably less irritating on your legs."

Ryan glared at Sandy again before shutting the bathroom door again. He let the look speak for itself. Ryan emerged from the bathroom a minute later – wearing his sweatpants.

Sandy shook his head. "Fine. Suit yourself, but I still have to apply the cream on your legs now."

Ryan continued to glare.

"The list says…"

"Sandy…" Ryan held out his hand, figuring nothing more needed to be said.

"Okay, fine. But if you miss a spot, you'll be sorry. Oh, and just so you know – the list says that I have to put the cream on your back since you can't reach it."

Ryan didn't mean to slam the bathroom door as hard as he did, but just thinking about stripping down so Sandy could apply cream to him was just wrong. On too many levels. Ryan pulled his sweats down, and unfortunately realized that Sandy was right – it did feel better without them. Something else that was just wrong.

After applying a lot of cream up and down his legs, chest, arms, neck and stomach, Ryan attempted to reach his back, and realized that there really wasn't a way for him to do it himself. He was going to have to let Sandy do it for him. Ryan sighed as he put his sweatpants back on and walked out of the bathroom.

He didn't say anything to Sandy as he handed him the cream and turned around. And luckily, Sandy decided not to say anything either. Nor did he make Ryan get back into bed. He just quietly and quickly spread the cream across Ryan's back, and gave him a gentle pat when he was done.

Not knowing what else to do, Ryan climbed back into the bed, with the fresh new sheets and started to pick at his lunch, still too embarrassed to look at Sandy.

A few quiet minutes later, Sandy finally broke the silence. "You have to eat more so you're not taking these pills on an empty stomach."

"More pills," Ryan mumbled.

"Yeah. Sorry. I know the pink is the Benadryl to help control the itchiness. Tylenol for your fever and the other is a decongestant for your stuffiness."

"Just the Benadryl. I don't want the other stuff."

Sandy opened his mouth, but Ryan stopped him. "Please, Sandy. Please don't tell me it's on the list. I'm sick of the list, and I don't want to keep taking a bunch of pills. Okay?"

"Okay, I won't tell you it's on the list, even though it is. I will tell you that if you don't want to breath easier, then don't bother with the decongestant. However, I will also tell you that since your fever is still hovering close to 102, you don't have a choice about the Tylenol."

Ryan continued to nibble at his lunch. He knew it would be a waste of time to argue with Sandy over the pills; he wasn't going to win. Besides, his throat was still scratchy, and he was still itchy so the sooner he took the pills, the sooner Sandy would leave and the sooner he could scratch again.

It was an excruciatingly itchy eternity before Sandy handed Ryan the pills – decongestant included- and watched as Ryan took them all. He had continued to pick at his lunch, even though he wasn't really hungry until he saw that Sandy appeared to be satisfied with how much he had eaten and agreed Ryan had enough in his stomach to take the pills. Once satisfied that Ryan had indeed taken all the pills on the list, Sandy patted his leg and turned to leave. "If you need anything…"

"Yeah, I know – I'll call you."

"Just remember – try not to scratch."

Ryan nodded as he watched Sandy leave. For a split second he felt a slight twinge of guilt for being so relieved to see Sandy go, but with him gone, now Ryan could scratch.

Sandy had barely shut the door before Ryan was scratching and itching anywhere and everywhere on his body. No amount of cream this time seemed to be taking the itch away, especially on his legs. They were the worst.

All he could do was moan and groan and scratch and itch. No sooner did he stop scratching his legs to move onto his arms or chest or stomach or neck, and he'd have to go right back to scratching his legs.

Ryan was groaning, moaning and scratching so much that he never heard the door open - didn't know he wasn't alone any longer - until he heard, "I thought I said don't scratch? I told you, Kirsten said you're going to get an infection."

"I thought you'd left."

"I thought you weren't going to scratch."

"I never said that."

"I never said I was leaving."

"I don't need a babysitter."

Sandy grabbed Ryan's wrist once again and pulled it away from scratching at his chest. "Apparently you do. Besides, I thought maybe we could play some cards or something. You know – keep your mind off being itchy."

Ryan rolled his eyes as he pulled his wrist out of Sandy's hand. "Let me guess – it says so on the list."

"Pretty much. It says to keep you occupied until the pills kick in, and you fall asleep."

"Fall asleep? Why? What did you give me?"

"The Benadryl and the decongestant both cause drowsiness."

"Why? I know you can get pills that don't cause drowsiness. Why couldn't I take those?"

"Because, _according to the list_, it was one of the doctor's suggestions. This way you will sleep more, scratch less, reduce the chances of infection and generally be passed out for a large portion of the illness."

Ryan didn't answer. It actually made sense, but well, he wasn't in the mood to tell Sandy he was right. Or rather, the list was right. No, that would be Kirsten was right, again.

Sandy started shuffling the cards. "So what will it be? Go Fish? Crazy Eights? Old Maid?"

"Not funny. I know I have a five-year-old's disease, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not five."

"Poker it is." Sandy watched as Ryan reached under the covers and again scratched at his legs. "And stop scratching!"

"I can't help it." Even Ryan realized how whiney that sounded, but well – it was true.

"Are you sure you're not five?"

"You're still not funny. My legs are killing me."

"I already told you – take off your pants. Stop rolling your eyes. You know you feel better without your shirt, so it would stand to reason that your legs would feel better if you removed your sweats."

"And sit here playing poker in my underwear? Yeah – I'd rather itch."

"Uh-huh. Okay, I'll make you a deal. One hand – winner takes all. Well, not all, but your pants."

"You want me to play strip poker? Um, Sandy, that's really wrong and kinda sick."

"You've never played strip poker before?"

"I never said I never played. I just never played with a guy before, and I don't plan on starting."

"Why? You afraid you'll lose?"

Ryan snickered. Lose? To Sandy? Not likely. "Fine. One hand, but if I win, I get to keep my pants - and my shirt if I want it - and I get some alone time to scratch if I want to. Deal?"

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan slumped down in the bed, glaring and pouting with his arms folded at his chest. And his pants in Sandy's hand. "Not fair."

"A deal's a deal. And never try bluffing with an old card shark, especially one who can always tell when you're lying. Come on – admit that your legs feel better."

Ryan continued to glare. Fine, they did feel better, but he wasn't going to admit that. He just wanted Sandy to leave. Take his pants and leave him alone – miserable in his underwear.

Sandy at least seemed to know that Ryan was done or maybe simply tired. "Okay then, now I'll go and let you get some sleep. Don't worry – I promise to keep Seth out of here when he gets home. I can't make any promises about Kirsten though. I don't think I can keep her out. Actually, I don't think I'm willing to even try."

Ryan still didn't answer. He had no answer. He was feeling pretty tired and not as itchy, but still too miserable to admit to Sandy that he was right. He'd rather just try to get some sleep and not think about the fact he was all but naked in the Cohen's spare room, covered in itchy, annoying chicken pox.

Nope – it definitely couldn't get much worse for Ryan. Or so he thought.


	5. Embarrassment Can Be Deadly

_Remember something - this story is in fun. Not to be taken seriously. And I own nothing even remotely related to the OC except one of the CD's and both season 1 and season 2 on DVD. Other than that - Josh and Fox own it. I like to borrow it and play with it._

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All Ryan knew when he woke up was that he had been asleep on his stomach, and he had somehow managed to kick his covers off. He wasn't sure if anyone had come in, but if someone had, he would have seen Ryan asleep dressed only in his boxer briefs, covered in the extremely annoying, irritating and embarrassing blisters and no covers. Or she would have seen, and all Ryan could think of was, "please, if anyone came in, let it be a he. Not a she. Please not a she."

Ryan rolled onto his back, not bothering to pull up the covers, since it really did feel better with nothing touching his skin. Something he knew he'd have to admit to Sandy, eventually, like in maybe a year or two or twenty.

He was still lying on his back, thinking about the entire absurdity of his situation so he never heard the gentle knock on the door. Nor did he realize that the door had opened, not until he heard the soft spoken, "Ryan?" Then he jumped into action, trying to grab the blankets from off the floor to cover himself before Kirsten came all the way into the room.

Unfortunately, it didn't matter how quickly Ryan moved, because as soon as Kirsten said, "I was checking to see if you were still sleeping" - Ryan knew – Kirsten had been the one who already saw him in only his tight boxer briefs. The very thought made Ryan groan, cover his face with his hands and wonder if chicken pox was at all life threatening, or was it just the embarrassment that was killing him?

If Kirsten noticed his humiliation, she was at least kind enough not to say anything. Instead she hauled two very large shopping bags up onto the bed and began to unpack. Ryan sat up a little higher and watched in amazement. Seth was definitely right about Kirsten and being sick. If everything she was pulling out of the bags was just for him, Ryan wondered what she would do if it was something more serious than just chicken pox. Itchy, embarrassing, annoying chicken pox, but still – just chicken pox.

The comic books, word searches and sudoku puzzles were one thing, but when Kirsten pulled out the new Sony PSP and many, many accompanying games, Ryan finally stuttered out, "Um, Kirsten?"

"Yes, I know Dr. McPete said you'd probably sleep a lot in the beginning, but after that I figured you'd get pretty bored. This is just some stuff to keep your mind off being sick."

"But Kirsten? This is a lot of stuff. I mean, thanks, but um… Ifigured I'd try to catch up on my homework."

Ryan really wasn't sure how to phrase exactly what he was thinking – not without risking hurting Kirsten's feelings. He had slowly, over time, grown accustomed to the Cohens' overindulging both him and Seth. Enjoyed it almost – the way Kirsten and Sandy lumped him with Seth without much thought. The problem this time was that it seemed like Kirsten only went shopping for Ryan.

"I told you before, you'll probably be home for at least two weeks. You'll have plenty of time to catch up on your homework when you're feeling better. This is for when you're not asleep but not well enough to concentrate on your homework."

"It's really okay, though. I mean, Seth isn't…"

"Seth isn't sick."

"I know, but he might…"

"Don't worry -- he already had chicken pox. He won't get it again."

Ryan put the PSP down on his nightstand. It seemed like Kirsten thought he was worried about getting Seth sick – not Seth's reaction to all the stuff that he got, and Seth didn't. Either Kirsten really didn't get it, or simply decided not to get it. Either way, Ryan figured it would be easier to leave it up to Seth to complain if he had a problem with the amount of new stuff.

Kirsten continued pulling out more games, more puzzles, books and DVD's until she finally reached the bottom of bag number two, and promptly pulled out the last gift--- packages of new underwear?

A rather large selection of boxers – not boxer briefs, but regular boxers, the kind Ryan wore when he first came to Newport. He hadn't worn boxers since it was decided that he would be staying in Newport though-- not by choice. Well, not by _his_ choice. For whatever reason, Kirsten bought him and Seth both boxer briefs. He never asked why since he never, ever wanted to discuss it with her. Hell, he never even wanted to think about the fact that Kirsten bought all his underwear, or the fact that she washed, dried, folded and put away all his underwear. Nope – that was a fact of every day living that Ryan liked to simply ignore.

That is, until now, as he stared down at the selection of stripes, solids and _polka dot_ boxers. Then, to make matters worse, Kirsten started to explain and discuss the new underpants purchase.

"When Sandy called before, he said the blisters were now on your legs. I'm not sure how far up your thighs the rash goes. I figured you'd probably be more comfortable with these as they won't be as tight. Much less irritating on your skin."

Ryan opened his mouth, then closed it, then swallowed a couple of times, and finally nodded. And then wondered again if it was the chicken pox or the embarrassment that was in deed killing him as Kirsten continued, "I bought enough for you to change every time you take a bath, which I'll go start now. It'll be Aveeno this time since it was baking soda last time."

Since he couldn't make eye contact with Kirsten, Ryan nodded again as he continued to stare at his pile of 27 different pairs of loose-fitting boxers that would be less irritating on his skin since the rash did in fact go all the way up his thighs and down his back and met somewhere not exactly considered the middle of his body. More like the end – the back end.

"Crap," was about all Ryan could mutter. Definitely something else he was not going to discuss with Kirsten. And hell no on the cream as well. No, he was not going to discuss it or mention it or even think about it. Ryan was still rubbing his forehead and not thinking about all the places that itched when Kirsten came back out of the bathroom. "Ryan? How much baking soda did Sandy use in the tub?"

"He didn't. I did. Why?"

"How much did you use?"

"The whole box. Did I do something wrong?"

Kirsten's sad little smile said a lot, even before she did. "No, sweetie, not wrong. It's just… well, the entire box doesn't dissolve in the tub."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll clean it up." Ryan started to get out of the bed, but then remembered that he only had on his underwear and Kirsten was still standing in the room and well – no, Ryan was not getting out of the bed.

Luckily Kirsten and her sad, pity-filled smile told him, "It's okay. I already cleaned it up. But promise me that the next time, you won't use the whole box."

Ryan nodded and looked down at the bed, still not wanting to make eye contact with Kirsten. It was all too much to deal with. Ryan heard the bath water running, and again began to panic – what if Kirsten actually waited for him to get out of the bed, walk across the room and go into the bathroom, dressed only in his tight boxer briefs?

With one hand scratching at his stomach and the other at his legs, Ryan tried to think of a way – a polite way- to tell Kirsten that wasn't going to happen. He looked down at the boxers and wondered if he would have time to change into them before Kirsten came out. Not that strutting across a room in boxers was something he wanted to do in front of her either, but at least they weren't as tight. They wouldn't show off as much – things he would never, ever want Kirsten to see.

He jumped when he heard, "You really do need to stop that right now."

Ryan looked up, surprised at how strict Kirsten sounded. He wasn't even sure what she was talking about - not until she walked over to him and grabbed his hand off his stomach.

"Sorry. Wasn't paying attention. I didn't even realize I was scratching again."

Kirsten still held onto Ryan's one hand and then pointed to the hand that was still under the covers, scratching at his legs. "You have to really try. I know it's not easy, but you have to try not to scratch."

"Yeah, how?" Ryan wasn't trying to sound nasty or sarcastic or even whiney. He honestly wanted and needed to know how not to scratch.

"Well, there are the baths and the lotions and the pills. But there are also other ways. I can think of one in particular that my mother used when I couldn't control my scratching, after I managed to get an infection."

"Whatever those ways are, I'm open for suggestions because the other stuff only helps for a little while. So anything you can remember from your days of torture, please let me know."

Kirsten smiled as she picked up all but one pair of boxers and placed them on the dresser. "Go soak in the tub. I'll be back in an hour with your pills. Make sure you leave enough cream for your back. We can discuss the other ways later, if you still need them."

Ryan waited until Kirsten shut the door behind her before he crawled out of the bed and darted into the bathroom. He wasn't sure what other possible ways Kirsten knew about that would control the itching, but all the other stuff she did helped him so he had no doubt she would know what else to do.

An hour later, Ryan was climbing out of the tub, drying off, scratching since the door still separated him from Kirsten and applying cream to all the very wrong places to be itchy, before pulling on his loose fitting boxers, wrapping a towel around his waist and going back into the bedroom.

He was relieved to see Kirsten had her back turned, busying herself with putting his new boxers in the dresser, giving him the opportunity to climb into the bed without her staring. Amazingly though, she seemed to know when he was in the bed before making her way to his bedside, taking the cream that Ryan handed her.

Neither one of them said anything as Ryan leaned forward. He was getting way too used to them putting cream on his back and figured it was better to simply close his eyes and not think about it.

That is until Kirsten pulled at the elastic on his boxers. Then he jumped, opened his eyes wide and tried to move away from the hand on his shorts.

"Um… Kirsten?" Ryan said for the second time that afternoon.

If Kirsten noticed how uncomfortable this intrusion was making him, she didn't say. All she did say was, "I don't like how irritated some of the blisters look on your lower back. You really do need to try to control your scratching."

"I'm not. It's from the rubbing of my under… the elastic."

Kirsten only nodded ever so slightly as she finished putting cream down _there_ before informing him, "If they get any more irritated or you begin to show signs of infection, I'll have to call the doctor."

Ryan's standard, "I'm fine," would have been more believable had he not absentmindedly moved his hand back over his chest. He did manage to stop himself from scratching when he saw Kirsten gave him her look - that one that told him she wasn't exactly happy with something he was doing.

He mumbled a simple "sorry" as Kirsten sighed and handed him the pills, which he immediately popped. Not because he was trying to avoid any more of her looks, but because he knew they would help. Like the baths helped. Like the cream helped. Like not wearing a lot of clothes – albeit embarrassing – it still helped. Like everything Kirsten did to help.

Kirsten gently laid her hand on top of Ryan's, which was scratching the blanket on his bed, as he desperately tried to keep his hands away from his chest and his back and his stomach and his legs, and his well, everything. "Still want to scratch, huh?"

"Oh yeah."

"So I guess its time for Grandma Nichol's anti-scratching remedy."

Kirsten again produced a bag, much smaller than the other two, but still, the thought that inside was something else to help him survive his chicken pox hell made Ryan very relieved.

Relieved quickly turned to shocked at what Kirsten pulled from the bag.

"Um… what's that?"

"Oven mitts."

"You're going to cook me something?"

"No, they're for you."

"I'm going to cook something?"

"Nope – they're for your hands."

"My um? What… I…Huh?"

"It's simple. I'm going to tape them to your hands, like my mother did to me. I couldn't scratch, and neither will you."

Ryan quickly shoved his hands under the covers and began to scoot over to the other side of the bed, trying to put as much room between himself and Kirsten and her mitts. He knew there was no way he was willingly going to let her tape those things to his hands.

At the same time, he began to talk faster than he ever thought possible. "No, no, no. I swear. I promise. Really, really promise that I won't scratch. You don't need to put those on… I don't need oven mitts. I promise."

Kirsten placed the mitts and a roll of tape on the nightstand. "Uh huh. Okay, so here's the deal. I'm going to leave everything right here. If I see you scratching, or if Sandy sees you scratching, or if we suspect that you're scratching, the oven mitts go on and stay on unless you're taking a bath. Deal?"

Again Ryan swallowed a few times before nodding; his eyes still on the oven mitts and his hands still hidden under the covers.

Kirsten fixed the covers around Ryan before patting his shoulder. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I know how miserable you are right now, but I'm trying to do what's best. You can't scratch and cause an infection. Believe me – it really would make everything worse. So any signs of scratching…"

She didn't bother to finish the threat as she simply pointed first to the oven mitts and then to Ryan. She left a very sullen Ryan still staring at the nightstand, with his hands still under the blankets. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to keep himself busy and not scratch, waiting for the pills to relieve the itching and put him blissfully back to sleep.

Ryan's last thoughts before nodding off being, "Oven mitts. Boxers. Blisters. How could it possibly get any worse?"

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_PS - you really can buy polka dot boxers - just ask my son, who, to this day, has not worn them. I thought they were cute. He didn not._


	6. Less is More

Ryan slowly became aware of the mumbling of voices. He blurted out, "I'm not scratching!" before he even bothered to open his eyes.

He forced himself to open them when he heard two distinctly male voices laughing and found Sandy and Seth staring down at him pitifully.

"Uh oh, Dad. I see oven mitts. Looks like someone's been a very bad boy."

"I warned you, kid - if you didn't stop scratching, you would not like the alternative."

Ryan glared. "Yeah, well – I'm not scratching. Go ahead and check – I'm not scratching!"

Sandy held up his hands in mock surrender. "No, that's okay. I trust you. Besides, I know Kirsten will check before your next bath."

"That you can count on," Seth added. "Never cross the Kirsten."

Ryan decided to ignore their comments. "Did you get my homework?"

"Yup. I sure did, and I was bringing it up to you. Then I ran into the Kirsten, and she took it. Said you wouldn't be up to concentrating on homework for a few more days. Instead, I've been assigned the task of downloading your music onto your new Ipod."

"But there's nothing wrong with my old Ipod."

"I guess after all this, Mom decided you deserved a new one."

Ryan didn't say anything, embarrassed by this additional stuff Kirsten felt he deserved and also shocked that Seth had yet to complain. Unless, of course, Ryan wasn't the only one Kirsten bought for.

"What did she get you?"

"When I had chicken pox? Um, I remember some comic books, some games, videos – you know, whatever was in style and in demand."

Sandy added, "Whatever he whined for."

"I didn't whine. I _don't _whine."

Ryan chuckled when he and Sandy both said, "Yeah, you do," and "Sure you do" at the same time.

Then he got serious again. "I meant now."

"Now? Nothing. Why?"

Ryan could tell by the looks on their faces that not only didn't Seth know what he was trying to get at but apparently neither did Sandy. Ryan shook his head and decided to forget about it – for now.

"Just…never mind."

Seth grabbed the new PSP as he headed for the door. "Okay, I'm off to download, and I'll charge this for you."

And that was when Ryan got it – yeah, sure - Seth will charge the PSP and then play it. He'll download his songs and then listen to the Ipod. "The games are on the dresser."

But Seth just mumbled, "yeah, okay," as he left with the PSP and the charger, but not the games.

Ryan waited for Sandy to say something, but he just sat on the bed and watched as Ryan picked at his blanket.

Finally Sandy said, "Need anything?"

For some reason, that made Ryan chuckle again. "No, I think I have more than I need."

"Her shopping trip a little much for you?"

Ryan hesitated for a minute. He knew he couldn't lie to Sandy, but he also knew he needed to be tactful about it. "Not really. Well, not just the shopping. It's more like everything. The shopping. The pills. The baths. The thermometer. The cream. The lack of clothes. The hovering."

"The hovering? I'm going to tell her you said that."

Sandy was joking, but Ryan was not in the mood. "You know what I mean."

"I know, and I promise you, Kirsten isn't enjoying herself. She's trying to make this easier for you so you come out of it relatively unscarred."

"I'm in your guest room in my underwear – trust me – I'm scarred." Ryan eyed the oven mitts. "You wouldn't really let her tape those to my hands, would you?"

"In the immortal words of Seth Cohen, never cross the Kirsten. If you can't control the scratching, she will tape the oven mitts to your hands, and I will be powerless to stop her."

"Gee, thanks." Ryan continued to pick at his blanket, struggling to keep his hands occupied and away from his body. "You know, it's not that easy to not scratch!"

"I never said it was. But that's why Kirsten has your whole routine down to the minute. The baths, the creams, the pills, the lack of clothes, and the new sheets – all of those things are doctor-approved ways to make this a little easier for you. And remember, it's only for the first few days. The blisters will start to heal over and once new blisters stopped appearing, the itch will get less. Unless of course, you get an infection."

"How will I know if I get an infection?"

"Kirsten will know. The doctor told her what to look for since Seth never got one."

Sandy paused before he continued. "That sort of reminds me. Kirsten said your, um, lower back looked a little irritated, and she wanted me to check to see if it was still being bothered down there. So, if you don't mind…"

"Would you even know what you were looking at?"

"Not really."

"Is she going to check herself when she comes back?"

"Most likely."

"Then I mind."

Ryan cringed when Sandy, out of habit, patted the top of his leg. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was pretty stupid, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Ryan's teeth were clenched as he tried hard to not scratch or rub his leg or yell or do Sandy some serious bodily harm.

Luckily, Sandy headed for the door, but not before he said, "Just remember, we're doing this because we love you, and we want what's best for you."

Ryan sighed, loudly, as he watched the door close behind Sandy.

Fine – Ryan would suck it up and manage. Since it was only for a few days, he would somehow suck it up and not scratch. Just a few more days then the blisters would begin to heal over, and the itch would stop. He could do a few more days.

As long as Kirsten continued the whole bath-pills-cream thing, Ryan figured he would try to sleep through the next few days.

Unless of course he got an infection, but what were the chances of that happening, right?

A few days later, just when Ryan was starting to feel better, just when he was no longer counting new spots, the Atwood luck struck again.

Ryan should have known – there was no way he could simply get over the embarrassment and humiliation of chicken pox in his underwear. No, that would almost be too easy.

He had stopped counting the number of times Kirsten pulled back the elastic on his shorts. She kept his routine the same. Every couple of hours – bath, pills, lotion, new sheets, new shorts and pulling at his elastic.

Until that fateful, awful morning, after what felt like a very long, feverish night, when Kirsten again pulled at the underwear. This time, she simply mumbled, "I knew it. I just knew it."

She didn't bother to explain to Ryan what she knew as she left the room. She didn't say anything when she returned, nor did she offer any kind of explanation as she shoved the thermometer in his mouth.

Kirsten 'tsk-ed' when she looked at the thermometer and again when she felt Ryan's forehead.

When Sandy came in a few minutes later, Kirsten showed him the thermometer. All he said as he gave Ryan two Tylenol was "within the hour."

A miserable hour later, Ryan got to meet the famous Dr. Peter McPete when he showed up in the guest room. He was the one who finally solved the mystery of what it was that Kirsten knew.

"Nice to meet you, Ryan. I hear you may have an infection."

"Mmm," was all Ryan mumbled since no one had bothered to tell him the reason he felt even lousier than before.

Dr. McPete stuck the thermometer into Ryan's mouth before turning to Kirsten. "Last time he had Tylenol?"

"Almost an hour ago."

"Okay. Excuse us. I'll let you know when we're finished."

"Don't you want me to show you where the infection is?"

"I'm sure we can manage. Excuse us."

Ryan immediately liked this Dr. McPete guy when he closed the door behind Kirsten and Sandy. Pulling the thermometer from Ryan's mouth, the doctor said, "I take it you feel like crap."

"Yeah, pretty much." Ryan definitely liked this guy.

As Dr. McPete put on his latex gloves, he promised, "I'll make this quick."

The guy was undeniably quick, Ryan had to give him that. He listened to Ryan's heart and lungs, checked his ears and throat, looked over the not embarrassing places Ryan had blisters, and did all the normal doctor exam type things.

Unfortunately, Ryan's fondness for the guy dropped slightly when he pulled down Ryan's shorts, and it quickly got worse when he instructed Ryan to lie on his side, with his shorts still down way too low for Ryan's comfort.

At least the exam was over right after that, as Ryan continually reminded himself that the guy was a doctor who was simply doing his job. Then the guy started to talk, and Ryan's liking for him dropped even further.

"Kirsten's right about the blisters on your lower back. They've been scratched open and are infected."

"I didn't scratch, I swear!"

The doctor laughed at the desperation in Ryan's voice.

"I'm not saying you scratched, and I promise, I'll tell Kirsten that. What I am saying is that the elastic from your shorts has caused an infection. We'll need to start you on an antibiotic, and you'll have to stop wearing your boxers."

Ryan sat up in bed, opened his mouth to argue – to say something, anything, but he was rendered temporarily speechless.

He did finally manage an "um…" as he watched Dr. McPete remove his gloves and crack the door open allowing Kirsten and Sandy back into the room.

"I was about to explain the less is more theory of chicken pox to Ryan."

"Less is more?" Kirsten looked from the doctor to Ryan who could only shrug and not look at her.

"The less clothes Ryan wears, the more comfortable he will be."

"But all he has on are his underpants."

"Which caused an infection. The elastic has rubbed some of the blisters open prematurely around his lower back."

"So he should go without his underpants?"

"Kirsten," Ryan groaned. "Please stop saying underpants."

"Sweetie, that's Seth's joke."

"Kirsten, this? Is no joke."

As the doctor wrote out the prescription, he again stressed, "He'll need an antibiotic and go without as much as possible for the next couple of days. I'd suggest only a baggy tee shirt or a loose fitting bathrobe when he goes from the bed to the bathroom, but while he's in bed, I suggest he allow the blisters to heal without the irritation of clothing."

Kirsten nodded. "Okay, that's fine."

Ryan was growing more and more frantic as he listened to Kirsten and the now disliked doctor make arrangements – naked arrangements – for him.

"That's fine! Fine for whom! Not fine for me. I'm not lying around here, nak… undress… not wearing anything for everyone to see!"

"Ryan, no one will see. You're in the privacy of your own room."

"This isn't my room. It's the guest room and my room? Not. So. Private."

Kirsten started, "Ryan…" but the uncharacteristically quiet Sandy finally stepped closer to the bed. "Kirsten, why don't you show Pete out and get Ryan's prescription filled?"

Nothing further needed to be said as they all knew what Sandy really meant. Didn't matter, Ryan thought as he folded his arms in front of him. Sandy could talk all day, but there was no way Ryan was going to willingly take off his boxers.

Any feelings of amity that Ryan had left for his doctor completely disappeared when he had to add, "You could end up very sick if the infection gets worse. You'll end up in the hospital where I promise - you will be wearing nothing except an IV containing your antibiotics. I'll see you in a few days. Unless you get worse, then I'll see you in the hospital."

The look Ryan got from Kirsten and the look he saw her give Sandy told Ryan that his days in his underwear were definitely numbered, especially since she left the room carrying his remaining pairs of clean boxers.

But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

"Ryan…"

"No."

"Ryan…" Sandy raised his voice slightly.

"No, Sandy. There's no way. I can't. Lying around your house in my underwear was humiliating enough, but now you expect me to do it without my… anything?"

"Yes, we do. If that's what you need to do to clear up the infection and get better then that's exactly what we expect you to do."

"So that's it? What – no poker game for my shorts? I'm supposed to strip down and happily lie around your house for the whole world to see?"

"We certainly don't expect you to be happy about it. And this isn't just my house, it's your home, and we're not the whole world, we're your family."

However, Ryan refused to answer or even look in Sandy's direction. "Fine. Then I'll tell Dr. McPete that we'll need to admit you to the hospital."

"Sandy…"

"The choice is yours, kid."

"No, it's not."

"I'm going to go start your bath, since you have to be undressed for that anyway. You think about it in the tub. If you decide that you can live 'without' in your temporary bedroom, then after an hour, climb back into bed, minus the shorts. If not, I'll bring you some clothes to wear to the hospital, where some big orderly or mean nurse will take them away from you."

It wasn't until after Sandy left, after his bath was ready, that Ryan stopped glaring at the carpet and made his way to the bathroom.

Ryan sat in the tub, trying really hard not to think about the entire absurdity of his situation, nor did he want to think about how much worse it would be once he got out of the tub.

And he really didn't want to think about the fact that it really did feel so much better on his lower back not having his shorts rubbing against the damn blisters.

Nope, Ryan tried really hard not to think about any of that as he soaked.

He wasn't even paying attention to the time until he heard a knock and Kirsten say, "Your hour is up."

The gruff, "Yeah, okay" wasn't really aimed at Kirsten. Not exactly. Just at the circumstances, but not Kirsten. Well, maybe Kirsten a little bit, and Sandy, too.

Ryan dried off and looked at his discarded pair of boxers, sighing as he dropped them into the hamper as if saying goodbye to an old friend.

With the towel wrapped around his waist, Ryan peeked out into the bedroom since he wasn't sure if he'd find Kirsten waiting for him. He didn't think she would be there, but at that point, he couldn't be too sure. Or too careful.

Thankfully, Kirsten wasn't there, but Ryan immediately noticed that the sheets on his bed were now blue. They had been yellow, not blue. There was also a tray of food and his bathrobe at the foot of his bed - the green one he hated because it was too big.

For a brief minute Ryan got mad again that they would automatically assume he would pick lying around the guest room buck naked, and not pick going to the hospital.

For another minute, Ryan contemplated telling them that he'd rather recover at HOAG, simply because they assumed he wouldn't choice the hospital.

In the end, Ryan decided that he really didn't want to go to the hospital. For one thing, he hated the hospital; for another, with his luck, he'd definitely get some mean nasty ugly nurse who would take away all his clothes. Then he would be stuck naked for the whole world to see.

Ryan again sighed, again loudly, as he climbed into bed, pulling the covers tightly around him and his towel. He could do this, he kept telling himself. As long as he could come to some kind of agreement with both Cohens, he could do this.

There had to be some ground rules to this whole naked in the guest room predicament.

At least they knocked on his door and waited for his grumpy "yeah" before they came in.

Kirsten, naturally, had the cream in her hand, and without thinking, Ryan automatically leaned forward.

Then he remembered and quickly laid back. "Can we discuss this first?"

"Discuss what?" Kristen said as she put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him forward.

Ryan wasn't used to having to argue with the Cohens- that's what Seth was for, but then again, he wasn't used to being naked in guest room either.

He decided that he really needed to channel his inner Seth in the hopes of getting his point across.

"We need some ground rules." Ryan continued to push against Kirsten's hand as she continued smearing cream all over his lower back – his naked, she-really-shouldn't-be-looking-there lower back.

"Ground rules? What ground rules?"

"This for one thing," Ryan said as he tried to pull the cream out of Kirsten's hand. "I can do that myself."

"This cream is only for the infection, which you can't reach."

Kirsten finished smearing the stuff on him _there_, allowing Ryan to finally lean back against the headboard and shake his head "no."

Before Kirsten could say anything, Sandy finally spoke up. "I think it's best if one of us puts the prescription cream on the infected area. You can do the rest of the spots with the Aveeno cream."

"But does it have to be all the time?"

Kirsten's "yes" left no room for further argument.

Ryan groaned before moving onto his next 'request.' "I want the door locked. If I have to lie around with nothing on, the door stays locked, and no one comes in unless I answer."

This time it was Kirsten's turn to shake her head. "I don't like the idea of the door being locked. I'd rather it stay open, just in case something happens."

"Like what?"

"What if your fever goes higher or something else were to happen? A locked door would make it too difficult to get to you."

"Exactly."

"Ryan…" Kirsten again started, but again, Sandy intervened. "Okay, how about this – the door can be locked, but Kirsten and I have the key. That way you get some privacy, and Kirsten and I get peace of mind."

"Then what's the purpose of the lock if you're just going to come in anyway?"

"We promise to knock first and wait for you to say something – just like we did this last time. However, if you don't answer, and we feel it's important to check on you, we use the key."

"No Seth?"

"Not unless you want Seth."

"No."

When Ryan couldn't think of how to further argue the door lock, Kirsten said, "Fine. What else?"

"As soon as I'm feeling better, I want my clothes back – all of them."

"No. As soon as Dr. McPete says you're better, you can have your clothes back."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is, you'll tell us you're feeling better just to get your clothes back. Dr. McPete will tell us when you really are better."

"No, I won't."

Kirsten raised her eyebrows in obvious disbelief. "Really? How long did your back bother you, and when were you planning on telling us about it? I saw those blisters steadily getting worse, and you never said a thing."

Ryan opened his mouth to say something in his own defense, but once again, Sandy spoke up. "Sorry, kid, but I have to side with Kirsten on this one. That infection didn't start overnight, and according to the doctor, it had to be bothering you for a while, without a word from you."

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"Until he comes back."

"Three days."

"So in three days I get my clothes back?"

"No, in three days, Dr. McPete comes to check on the infection, and just like Kirsten said, if it's okay with the doctor, then you can get your clothes back."

With nothing left to argue for, especially since he wasn't winning, Ryan quietly began to pick at the food on the tray.

He didn't bother to say anything when Kirsten went into the bathroom. He did almost say something when she returned with the Aveeno cream. Luckily, she simply handed it to him along with his pills.

Then she smiled, gently patted his arm and left – carrying his last pair of boxers from the hamper.

Sandy didn't say anything for a minute as Ryan continued to pick at the food and not say anything either.

It was actually Ryan who said something first. "Remember to lock the door when you leave, please."

"If you need anything…"

"You'll knock."

Sandy laughed, "I promise."

"Ryan," Sandy then added. "It's only for a few days. Give it a few days for the infection to heal, and then it'll be okay."

"A few days. Heard that before."

Even though Ryan didn't say it as a joke, Sandy again laughed. "Not this time. This time, I promise, once the infection is gone, you will be well on your way to recovering."

When Ryan didn't answer, Sandy locked the door as he left.

Once he was safely protected by the locked door, Ryan removed the towel from his waist, finally alone in his misery – his naked misery - with his Aveeno cream, new clean blue sheets, oversized green bathrobe and nothing else.

He hoped this time Sandy was right. He hoped he would actually be better and dressed in a few days.

Ryan had already lost all his clothes along with his dignity.

His luck had to change. Sooner or later the Atwood luck just had to change.

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Remember - the name of the challange was to get Ryan undressed. It was a challange from a really, really long time ago, I know but hey - I finally managed. If it offends - sorry, but it was the name of the challange...

I own nothing from the OC except Season 1 and Season 2 DVDs, their Chrismukkah CD and one or maybe two OC mixes. Oh, and I have the 2006 calander at work - a gift from famous99. Other than that - Josh, Fox and TPTB own it all.


	7. The End

Somehow, a few miserable naked days later, Ryan was actually better. Sandy was right - his Atwood luck didn't strike again.

Ironically, when Ryan finally got his clothes back, it was in the same order in which he lost them.

After Dr. McPete's first return visit, Ryan got his shirt back. Okay, it didn't cover everything, but it at least covered more than nothing.

A day later, they returned his pajama bottoms. Even though he was forced to go commando, Ryan was still tremendously happy that his privacy was restored.

When he asked why his boxers were returned to him last, the damn elastic was blamed again. Dr. McPete felt it would be best if he allowed the infection to completely heal over before risking the damn elastic irritating him again. What really irritated Ryan was the fact that Kirsten naturally listened to everything Dr. McPete said.

Finally, happily though, Ryan was completely dressed again.

Once he was allowed all of his clothes, Ryan was also allowed his homework, which Ryan immersed himself in. He had a lot to catch up on, and it kept his mind off thinking about the recent itchy naked nightmare.

The morning they told Ryan he could go back to his own room, he practically ran to the pool house and flopped down on his bed.

When he was free to roam the house again, Ryan attempted to ask to go back to school early, but they felt it was best that he take the additional time off as a precaution because of the infection. That meant he was home alone with Kirsten during the day.

Even though he continually mutilated Kirsten's ninja on Play Station, Ryan really wasn't mad at her for the way she treated him. No, he loved her for everything she did for him, and he really did appreciate everything she gave him. Ryan merely found it difficult to face her.

He was naked in her guest room. She repeatedly filled the bathtub for him, and while he soaked in said bath, she continuously changed the same sheets that he laid naked on. She also rubbed cream on his lower back more times than Ryan wanted to think about ever again.

And even though there were no naked accidents, and she really never did see anything that she really, really shouldn't have seen, Ryan still found the whole incident totally humiliating and down right embarrassing. That made it hard to look Kirsten in the face.

Ryan also wasn't sure what it meant that she continued acting as if nothing had happened. That everything she had to do for him and everything that had transpired between them didn't seem to phase her one bit. Nope, she continued being the same Kirsten she always was, and those first post-naked days were very unnerving to Ryan.

Not counting the fact that not one Cohen made any inappropriate, ill-timed jokes about his naked itchy disease. That was especially unsettling to Ryan. There was not one Chicken Little joke, not one Naked Boy tease, nothing. Not that Ryan wanted them to rib him, but they were Cohens – that was what they did.

The first day back to school also had Ryan on edge. He worried about what his fellow students knew, and what they would say when he showed up. Most of the blisters were pretty well gone, and clothes easily hid those that weren't completely healed. As long as Seth kept his word and didn't say anything about Ryan having the chicken pox, Ryan figured he should be able to get through the day without getting into a fight with a water polo player.

He quietly turned in his doctor's note allowing him to return, silently took his seat in homeroom, and waited for someone to say something.

Fortunately, as Seth not so delicately put it over dinner that night, since they really didn't talk to anyone and really didn't have any other friends, no one seemed to notice that Ryan was out for over two weeks or care that he was back. That was a fact that Ryan was actually very thankful for.

After that, everything else slowly returned to Cohen normal – something else Ryan was extremely grateful for.

Lying alone, in his pajamas, in his pool house one night, Ryan realized that at least now he knew what to expect when and if he got sick again. He just hoped that whatever illness be-felled him the next time wouldn't leave him naked in the guest room.

Fin.

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Still own nothing importantwith regards to the OC, the actors or the characters.

I got him naked. Now he's dressed. The End.


End file.
